Poem in progress..

I'm so sick of being your
puppet a string,
call my name and I'll come running.

But running is over,
I'm done with your twisted games,
So excuse me while I pick up what's left of my sanity.

Someday I'm not gonna be there
for you to rebound
and you'll just fall down.

Go ahead, use me again,
but I guarantee this will be the last time.
I'll smile, I'm good at pretending,
But I'm nearing the end of the line.